Virus
by CasusFere
Summary: Post2007movie. Prowl was once one of the best Autobot officers, but something happened a long time ago to turn him into the monster known as Barricade. Now, after the defeat of Megatron, Jazz is determined to bring him back.
1. Dreams

He needed to refuel. His tanks were almost empty again. Ahead, he could see Chevron signs come into view… He hesitated for a split second then rolled past. The thought of consuming the reeking _sludge_ the primitive humans called fuel – he shuddered.

A few more miles down the road he turned off into the gravel beneath an overpass and tucked himself into a small pullout, against the concrete and facing the freeway. Barricade shut off his engine and lights, looking for all the world like just another police car trolling for speeders. He listlessly watched the traffic pass for while, settling low on his tires. Primus, he was tired. It was the soul-numbing tiredness that went beyond energy reserves, that wouldn't go away no matter how long he recharged, or how much fuel he drank.

_You deserve it, remember? It's your fault. The pain is your punishment, and it will __**never**__ be enough. _

Barricade shifted closer to the wall and slipped reluctantly into recharge. He slept, and he remembered.

x-x-x

He was alone. Shattered wrecks of once- magnificent buildings loomed on either side, outlined by the glow of distant fires.

_What am I doing here?_

His hands were wet. He looked down, then raised his hands and stared in shock.

His hands were covered in energon.

_What? Why –_

It came to him in flashes. _Silver metal, slick with energon – hands ripping at armor plating – a terrified face, looking up at him and begging to know __**why**__ –_

_Bluestreak._

He froze in horror, staring at his trembling hands.

_I – I killed Bluestreak!_

"_Prowl! Stop! Please, Prowl, don't –"_

He fell to his knees, his entire body shaking.

_I'm sorry... _

"_I don't want to die!"_

_Bluestreak, I'm sorry..._

"_Why, Prowl? Please... just..." Energon flowing freely from twisted metal, still struggling to get out his last question – "Please... tell me... why..."_

_Bluestreak! I didn't... I never..._

_Standing over the mangled wreck, watching the young bot who had always trusted him, looked up to him..._

_Somebody help me..._

_Watching as his optics flickered and died._

Prowl knelt in the ruins, shivering.

_I'm sorry... I never wanted to hurt you..._

And Prowl screamed.

x-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-x

A/N- I'm a bad, bad person.


	2. Slim Chance

A/N - This is incredibly short, but I'm still mulling over how to do the next bit that has to happen...

------------------------------------

"Jazz!" Sam raced up the hallway to the medbay, Bumblebee right behind. "You got Barricade?!"

"Caught him on the turnpike this mornin'," Jazz called back. "We managed to get him tied down and dragged him back on Prime's trailer. Ratchet's running a few scans – viruses and the like."

"… like computer viruses?" The idea that the super-sophisticated alien robots could get something so mundane as a computer virus hadn't occurred to him."

"Yeah, like. One in particular, really."

"Robosmasher?" Bumblebee guessed. Jazz nodded.

Sam looked from one to the other. "Robo-wha?"

"It's one of Megatron's pet weapons, created by a particularly nasty mech called Shockwave. It infects the personality cortex, slowly twisting a person's thoughts and actions."

"Basically, it turns them into Decepticons," Bee put in.

"It provokes blind rages, extreme violence – Megatron would capture an Autobot, infect them, and then let them go. Most of the time they just went berserk. He liked the turmoil it caused when we were forced to kill one of our own to stop them."

"Wait, Barricade was an Autobot?" Sam had a stunned expression.

"The very best of us. He wasn't Barricade then; his name was Prowl. Second-in-command of the entire faction, actually…" Jazz trailed off as the medbay doors opened.

Ratchet shot Jazz a serious look. "Let's go see Optimus. I don't want to have to explain this twice."

x-x-x

"Well?" Jazz demanded impatiently. Optimus leaned forward attentively.

"He _was_ infected," Ratchet said heavily, settling into a chair.

"Can you fix it?" asked Jazz.

Ratchet glared. "It's not that simple! I can stop the virus from corrupting his system any farther, but it's hard to tell how much damage has already been done. The virus has had a very long time to work – in fact, I'm surprised he's even this stable after so long."

Optimus sighed. "Is there any hope?"

"Maybe. It all depends on how much of Prowl is left in there. There's a chance – a very _small _chance, Jazz – that without the virus' surpressing effect, Prowl's original personality will re-assert itself. He could eventually act almost like his old self – or he might be Barricade forever."

Jazz rubbed a hand across his visor. "It's a better chance than we had before."


	3. Hope

A/N - I'm really not fond of this chapter, but I've been trying to re-write it since the day after posting chapter 2. So I give up, since I don't think it's going to get any better. This has got to be the hardest story to write that I've ever attempted... hence the short chapters. Bleeeeehhhh.

x-xxx-x

The interceptor paced his cell in agitation, growling quietly and shooting the Autobots furious sideways glares.

Optimus stood in front of the cell, arms folded, optic somber. "Prowl, we want to help you-"

"I don't _need_ your help, or your pity!"

Jazz winced at the harsh snarl. "Prowl-" He was cut off by the crash of a tri-lithium armored fist impacting the reinforced cell walls.

"My name is Barricade," he captive growled.

Optimus looked pained. "Barricade. It doesn't have to be like this. What happened is not your fault…"

Barricade's laugh was devoid of amusement. "It's not? Then whose fault is it? Oh, wait, that's right, it's Bluestreak's fault. After all, if he hadn't been such an annoying little slagger, he wouldn't have had to die." Barricade laughed again at the Autobots' stricken expressions.

"You don't believe that," Jazz said flatly.

"I don't? Do you know what I felt when I ripped out his secondary fuel lines, one by one?" Barricade stepped up to the bars, grinning sadistically. "I felt free. I've never been so happy as when I felt the sensation of warm energon running down my hands." He flexed his claws. "Or maybe it was when he started begging…"

Optimus turned on his heel and left.

"Guess he's got a bit of a weak stomach," Barricade noted with a tone of sadistic glee.

"This isn't you."

"On the contrary, Jazz, this is all me. It always has been."

Jazz looked at Barricade for a long moment. "I'm not giving up on you, Prowl. I'm never giving up."

x-x-x

Jazz sat staring at the security monitors with slumped shoulders, watching Barricade pace in his cell.

Ratchet may have purged the virus, but Barricade – _Prowl_, Jazz growled to himself – didn't seem interested in cooperating.

_It's only been a week,_ Jazz reminded himself. _Millennia of Decepticon mindset couldn't disappear overnight._

He sighed. Prowl wasn't even trying. On the contrary, he seemed to be _enjoying_ horrifying his former comrades with tales of his more gruesome exploits, taking pleasure in the pain his words caused. And yet there had been a moment, when Jazz told him he was never giving up, that Jazz thought he saw _something_ lurking behind the sadistic glee. For just a moment, Jazz could have sworn he saw guilt and _fear_ in Prowl's optics. A second later it was gone, leaving Jazz to wonder if it had been just wishful thinking.

Despite Jazz's attempts to focus on that small ray of hope, to keep a positive outlook, the despair was slowly creeping in. The others had already started to give up.

A footstep outside the door startled him out of his thoughts. He spun his chair around. Mikaela stood in the doorway, Sam and Bumblebee behind her.

"Hey! Wazzup little buddies?" Jazz asked with false cheer.

Mikaela wasn't fooled. "Are you alright, Jazz?"

"Five by five n' ready to drive. How you been? I haven't seen you around for the last couple weeks."

"I've been busy, and you're lying, Jazz." Mikaela wasn't going to allow herself to be sidetracked.

Jazz stared at her a moment. His shoulders slumped. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

"He's not getting better, is he?" she asked quietly.

Jazz just shook his head.

"He doesn't look very happy," Sam commented, looking up at the security monitor. They watched Barricade pace in silence.

"I have to feel sorry for him," Mikaela said finally. "He's all alone. Even if he were to escape, he's got no one to go to, no one he can depend on…"

Jazz gave her a tired smile. "Bluestreak used to say the same thing about Megatron. He though that being alone and friendless, unable to trust anyone, was a worse punishment than anything we could inflict-" Jazz stopped, realization dawning. "That bastard. That sneaky, _stubborn_ bastard!" Jazz leapt to his feet. "Bee, watch the monitors," he called over his shoulder as he ran out.

Sam looked at Mikaela. She shrugged. "Don't ask me."

x-x-x

"I know what you're doing," Jazz said quietly.

Barricade didn't respond, standing in the far side of his cell with his back to Jazz.

"I couldn't figure it out, Prowl; it just never made any sense for you to defect like that. You were Prime's second in command, his confidante. You had access to everything; every file, every security code, every plan… Primus! You made most of those plans! And yet, never once did you use any of that against us."

Barricade turned his head slightly. "Does this have a point?"

"Then Ratchet told us you had been infected, and I thought I had the answer. I guess I was envisioning your personality somehow fighting the virus, and that was why you'd never given us up."

"Don't be stupid." Barricade snorted.

Jazz stepped closer. "I figured it out, though. The virus provokes rages; it doesn't force you to swear allegiance to the Decepticons. But in your case, it didn't have to, did it? All it had to do was push you into killing Blue, and your stubborn, _stupid_ sense of justice did the rest."

The interceptor didn't answer, pacing the length of his cell in agitation.

"You've spent all these years punishing yourself, forcing everyone away. _Alone and friendless_, Bluestreak's idea of a fate worse than death. It's not going to work. Because I'm not giving up on you, Prowl, not ever."

Jazz turned and started for the door.

"_Damn you."_

Jazz looked back. Prowl had his back to Jazz, fists clenched.

"You're supposed – _why won't you just hate me?_"

"I could never hate you, Prowl," Jazz told him with absolute sincerity. He waited, but Prowl didn't continue. Jazz left, feeling more encouraged and hopeful than he had in years.

Alone, Prowl slumped to the floor. "Damn you…" he whispered, the heat gone from his voice.


	4. Fall

A/N- Last chapter! Bit dark, this one.

x-xxx-x

Ironhide stood next to Optimus, watching Jazz and Barricade on the monitors. Jazz was standing inside the cell, speaking soothingly to an agitated Barricade.

"Do you think he's actually getting through?" Ironhide asked quietly.

Optimus sighed. "I don't know, Ironhide. I can only hope. If anyone can bring Prowl back, it would be Jazz." He hesitated. "But…"

"But we can't be sure there's anything left to _be_ brought back," Ironhide finished for him.

Optimus turned back to the screen. "No, we can't," he said heavily.

x-x-x

"They don't blame you for what happened, Prowl," Jazz told him quietly.

The interceptor shot him a look.

"And you shouldn't blame yourself, either. What happened to Bluestreak was _not your fault."_

"And everything I've done since then?" He faced Jazz. "Do you have any _concept_ of how many I've killed? Do you have the _slightest_ idea of the things I've done?" Barricade ground out. "Take your misplaced optimism elsewhere, Autobot."

"The very fact you feel remorse over their deaths is what keeps me here, Prowl. If you were the monster you say, you wouldn't have been torturing yourself all these years," Jazz continued, implacable.

"You're an idiot." Barricade resumed pacing.

"You're a stubborn jackass," Jazz shot back. "We've forgiven you already. You just have to forgive your-"

Barricade whirled on him, snarling. "You just don't get it! I don't want your forgiveness, and I don't _need_ your _help!_" Jazz took a step back, startled by the vehemence in Barricade's voice. "This isn't some romantic story of redemption, Jazz! You can't just_ fix_ this," Barricade growled, stalking forward. "You can't make it go away. _Nothing _can. Just give it up."

Jazz looked directly into Barricade's optics. "I can't fix everything, but I can make it better. It's not your fault-"

"Would you _stop saying that?_"

"No. I'm going to keep saying it until you listen, Prowl."

"My name is_Barricade_."

"Your name is Prowl," Jazz said calmly. "And you're my oldest and closest friend."

Barricade glared, fists clenching. "You just don't get it," he said tiredly.

"Then tell me."

"I've killed a lot of people, Jazz. No mercy, no remorse. I hunted them down and murdered them. And I _enjoyed_ it. I'm a monster. I should be locked away in a hole much deeper and darker than this one, for the sake of everyone."

Jazz stepped close, laying his hand on Barricades chest. "No. Everyone deserves a second chance, even you. Especially you."

"Dear, faithful Jazz," Barricade murmured, touching Jazz's face with the back of a claw. "You never give up, do you? You were right, you know, about why I ran. At least at first. But now, I find I kinda like the way it feels," Barricade continued, his voice going dreamy. "The feel of hot energon, and a fuel pump stuttering to a stop… it's the greatest rush."

"You-" Jazz broke off with a pained noise as Barricade's claws sank into his side.

Barricade smiled as armor plating buckled under his claws, lubricant and energon mixing and spilling over his hand. Jazz's optics were wide and shocked behind his visor.

"You just won't listen, will you? I told you, Jazz, I'm a monster." His claws clenched, cutting through delicate wiring and drawing a pained mewl from Jazz. "I see you and wonder how you would look broken on the floor."

"Prowl..."

"Scream for me, Jazz," Barricade hissed.

Belatedly, Jazz tried to fight back. But Barricade had his hand twisted deep into Jazz's side, sending shockwaves of pain through his processor. Desperately, he tried to shove Barricade back, to no avail. Barricade shoved his hand in deeper, and Jazz's vision flickered.

Ironhide tore Barricade away from Jazz, flinging him into the far wall. He and Optimus had rushed to the detention area as soon as they realized what was happening. Optimus caught his lieutenant as he staggered back.

Lunging to his feet, Barricade slashed at Ironhide, claws scoring the weapon specialist's armored forearms. Ironhide's fist caught Barricade in the face, sending him reeling back. A second punch knocked Barricade to the floor, and a third made sure the interceptor was staying down.

x-x-x

"There wasn't anything you could do," Optimus told Jazz later. "Maybe if we'd been able to get to him earlier, there would have something left to save."

Jazz didn't reply for a long moment, watching Ratchet work on the unconscious Barricade, a pained expression on the medic's face. On the next table, a stasis box was waiting.

Optimus Prime had judged Barricade too dangerous for even the limited freedom of a holding cell. His personality component and memory would be removed and placed in stasis. Ratchet was hopeful that with more study they might someday find a way to reverse the damage of Shockwave's virus, but until then, Barricade would be locked away where he couldn't hurt anyone.

"Maybe it's better this way," Jazz said finally. "I think there was just enough left of Prowl for him to hate what he had become. At least this way he doesn't have to live with it." He sighed. "Small comfort."

Optimus laid a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Never give up hope, Jazz. We'll find a way to beat this. Someday."

"Yeah," Jazz whispered. "Someday."


End file.
